


Take Me Out of My Head

by Hoppskibjack



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Dorks in Love, Freddie gives good presents, Hand Jobs, I give good presents, M/M, Overstimulation, Questionable Fashion Choices, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Game era, silk leggings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoppskibjack/pseuds/Hoppskibjack
Summary: Freddie gives Brian silk leggings/trousers for his birthday. He's not too keen on them, but Roger LOVES them.





	Take Me Out of My Head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flydale_north](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flydale_north/gifts).



> A birthday present I wrote for my bestie Queen friend. I don’t normally give music recommendations with my fics, but I highly recommend listening to The Game album while reading this. Even better if you start at ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ and let the album play through and start again so you end on 'Dragon Attack'. If timed it right, the songs should change in the right place. If not, you’ll have a good soundtrack.

It had been a birthday present. Yes, that was the reason Brian was wearing these particular Japanese-inspired silk leggings… trousers, whatever they were. It wouldn’t be proper or fair to accept a present and then shove it to the back of the closet, never to be seen or heard from again. It had taken him two weeks, but he finally put them on. Freddie knew his taste in clothes and had still purchased the garment; ergo, Freddie, with his fashion sense, must be seeing something he could not. He could live with that. If the experience as a whole was unpleasant, he would just never do it again.

First, however, he had to live with Roger’s jokes, and now, his stares.

“Are those silk?” Roger asked, tipping his head the same way a dog would when you asked it a question. If there was anyone who loved clothes more than Freddie, it was Roger, and Roger seemed very interested in these trousers.

Brian nodded. He sat with the Red Special on his lap, his sixpence coin gripped gently between his lips as he tuned his high ‘E’ string.

The drummer sidled a little closer in a chair, glancing over at John and Freddie, who were working through the bridge of one of John’s new songs. Only a moment ago, Roger had declared himself “on break”, and naturally that meant Brian would achieve very little until Roger went back behind his kit. Not that he minded the opportunity to spend time with Rog, not really. He just had to maintain the facade of a hard working guitarist wearing silk leggings.

“Damn, they look soft.” Roger’s hand quickly brushed up Brian’s leg from knee to hip, letting his fingertips brush the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to his dick. The little sparks of pressure and the sliding sensation carried so well through the material. He was beginning to admit his opinion of the trousers was perhaps a little hasty. 

“They ARE soft,” Roger affirmed, and Brian could see the twinkle of amusement and interest in Roger’s eyes.

He knew that look, and while it often spelled trouble, it was always enjoyable trouble. The last time he saw that look, they both had come so hard, neither of them knew where they were.

“I guess we can do it without drums and guitar, Deacy, but won’t Roger and Brian be upset?”

Both heads snapped up. Roger actually stood, ready to challenge such an outrageous decision. Freddie grinned triumphantly.

“That got their attention,” John stated with a (albeit kind) smirk.

Freddie, who enjoyed such a thing as a little prank now and then, patted John on the shoulder before stepping towards them. “Perhaps, darlings, you can keep play time until after rehearsing?”

“Play time?” both men chorused. Brian sighed while Roger rolled his eyes. Yes, they were having more than just a conversation, and yes, his guitar was positioned in a certain way to hide the beginnings of a bulge for which Roger was entirely to blame.

“Play time,” John repeated. “When you role-play and do kinky sex things that you will, no doubt, someday write songs about.”

“Rog, let’s work on that song you started for the album.” Freddie waved a hand as he tried to remember some of the lyrics. “You know, the one you sing so well?”

Roger nodded. “The Prime Jive one.”

“Yes! Rock it. Something upbeat so we can work out some energy.”

Brian was aware that Freddie’s small smile was directed at him. He smiled back – after all, he didn’t need to act like a prude around his own bandmates.

Roger grinned, and Brian knew any ill will was now forgotten as he walked towards his kit. Brian fished out his sixpence from his pocket, standing (and hoping any sort of excitement had died down). He walked over to his amp to plug in and wait for the count in.

It was hours later when Brian and Roger finally wandered back to Brian’s hotel. Their original plans to go out to a dance club with Deacy and Freddie had been forgotten as the afternoon had worn on and Roger kept bringing up the trousers Brian was wearing. Both struggled to keep their hands to themselves until they were behind closed doors. Their crew had no issues with it; a lot of them were gay, and the hotel staff were paid well enough to keep their opinions to themselves. Brian, however, was always concerned Munich paparazzi could be behind the next corner. Roger seemed to think he was being overcautious: What did the press care about them being here? Brian was grateful when he kept that to himself.

The door had no sooner closed with a reassuring click and a deeper thunk of the lock than Roger was pressing Brian against the wall. Times like this, height meant nothing, especially when the shorter of the two was all arm strength. All the pent up ‘need you, want you, fuck you right fucking now’ each of the men had stuffed down for hours poured into the contact. The initial kiss was aggressive; bruising lips and tongues stealing the breath from the other. Roger pressed a hand between Brian’s legs, the silk doing little for padding against the pressure as he cupped the growing erection.

Brian gasped at the pressure, pushing against his hand to grab the overshirt Roger was wearing and pull it off. The drummer was quick to shed it and the T-shirt underneath, a grin on his lips. The brief break in contact was enough for Brian to shed his own shirt and discard it onto the floor. Then, his long fingers were reaching down to unfasten the soon-to-be impeding trousers.

“Leave them on.”

Roger’s words, slightly breathless, made Brian look up and squint in confusion. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. “But…” However, the look in his partner's eyes, full of arousal and need, was enough for him to rethink his opinion and redirect his hands toward pulling Roger close to him again, kneading his ass and grinding against him. A low moan, mostly silence interspersed with hums of approval and sighs of pleasure, was pulled from Brian as Roger’s fingernails traced down the bulge, massaging in between.

“You’re not wearing anything under those, are you?” Roger asked quietly, glancing up to look the other man in the eye, tightening his grip ever so slightly so his nails dug in a little.

“No,” Brian said, attempting to keep a whine out of his voice, and failing. His eyes fell closed for a moment, drinking in the sensation, his hips stuttering forward. The nails were digging in more as Roger tightened his grip, gently massaging his cock. Dammit, Roger knew exactly how to unravel him. The fabric kept the edges dull to Brian’s flesh, but the slip slide of his hand against the silk emphasized the sensation. He opened his eyes. “Rog…”

“You spent all day like that, just a thin piece of fabric covering your dick around the guys…” Roger tsked. Clicking his tongue in mock disapproval, he forced Brian off-balance and gently pushed him to take short steps backwards. “I bet you can feel everything through the silk…” He continued pushing until the backs of Brian legs hit the bed.

Brian kissed whatever he could reach, nipping at Roger’s jaw and kissing the crook of his neck and shoulder, relishing the little murmurs and purrs of pleasure he could bring out in Roger. He carded his hand through the light-coloured locks, dragging his nails across the scalp. Brian was reduced to lust and sensations, moaning out little gasps as Roger pushed and pulled him. He could feel his heart beating faster with the taste of sweat-salt on his tongue and the feel of Roger’s noises vibrating down his neck. He wanted to swim in the sensations, but he was jolted back to reality when Roger smirked, then dropped down to his knees. Brian sucked in a breath.

Roger huffed a breath across the bulge, nuzzling against the silk and drawing patterns with a pointed tongue. It was enough to make Brian dizzy. It felt so good, a slightly warm friction against his skin that was just enough to arouse him, but probably not enough to get him off. “Fuck, Rog,” Brian mumbled, his hands going to Roger’s hair again, grasping handfuls to gently pull. Roger purred. Brian could feel the vibrations even though the front of his trousers and he was starting to realize what Roger intended to do.

He looked down, massaging Roger’s scalp while his heart and dick swelled at the sight before him. Roger had looked up and Brian groaned at the debauched sight of the other man. Roger’s pupils were blown, his lips were slightly bruised with a smirk tracing the edges, and his cheeks were just starting to redden. The guitarist swore and took in long, slow breaths, shuddering as Roger suddenly enveloped as much as he could of the silk-covered bulge into his warm, wet mouth. This is what heaven felt like. He could feel every swipe of Roger’s tongue through the smooth material, could feel the wetness and the heat of his breath.

“Oh fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck, Rog.”

Roger pulled off, licking his lips and grinning up at Brian, who snapped his gaze down at the loss of friction and warm. “Does that feel good, Bri?”

Bastard, why did he stop?! Brian thought with a certain amount of despair, then tried to compose himself, smoothing his fingers through Roger’s hair and down the side of his face. He was trying for loving, but he knew he was just coming across as desperate. “Yes. Yes, it does, please, Rog, don’t stop.”

Roger nodded, but he didn’t lose his smirk as he ran his fingernail down the wet material and then back up, tracing his tongue alongside it. Brian thought he saw a smile at the little shakes and shudders Brian was involuntarily making at the sensations. Then Roger took everything into his mouth, as much as the cloth would allow, and sucked.

Brian’s hips bucked, gasping as the warm, wet vice made him even harder, brought him that much closer to coming. Roger was pulling out all his tricks, a hand massaging the silk where his balls were, teeth nipping at the skin beneath the material. Brian closed his eyes, letting the sensations wash over him as tongue and warmth did the same. Roger’s other arm wrapped around Brian’s waist, pulling him closer and steadying him with each twitch and shudder.

Brian wanted more, he needed more. He just needed a little more friction or suction or something to get there. He reached down and tried to get the silk leggings off to free his erection, but Roger slapped his hand away, making a noise akin to a “don’t” and a growl. He bore down on the package in his mouth, making a Brian cry out in mostly pleasure with a hint of pain, enough for him to reconsider doing it again. “Please, Roger, let me get these off so you can do this properly.”

“Nuh-uh,” Roger replied, and Brian could feel the smile as the front of the fabric became wetter and warmer with saliva and pre-come, friction increasing and oh, he was so close. He was on that proverbial cliff and he couldn’t wait to fall off it. Friction, the tracing tongue, the warmth… Then a firm press with two fingers behind his balls and that did it, tipping him over the edge and he shuddered and came into the leggings that had started the whole thing. 

Roger didn’t stop there. He pulled the trousers down to Brian’s knees and then off, helping him step out of them, and then to sit on the edge of the bed. Roger caressed the now-sticky skin with his hand, and when Brian hissed from the sensitivity and the air, tutted. “You told me not to stop.”

Brian laughed – Roger couldn’t be serious – and then stopped with a gulp as Roger proved that yes, he was serious. He took all of Brian into his mouth with a slurp. Mostly flaccid and recovering, it was too much and too soon. Brian choked out a noise, his brain a mess of emotions. It felt good, but it was too good. “Too much,” he sputtered out, but Roger kept going, seeming not to hear him, easing his way up and down the shaft slowly and smoothly, almost methodically. The drag of tongue on his skin made Brian huff out a few breaths, moaning as the overstimulated skin briefly cooled by the air was now warm again. The suction felt like a vice, the warm breath like a fire, and Roger’s tongue felt like it was sharp, digging little lines into his soft flesh. “Fuck, too much.” Brian felt a tear roll down his cheek and realized it was wet; he wondered when that had started. 

Roger pulled off, looking up and wrapping a hand around the shaft as a replacement. “You can come again, can’t you, Bri?” He reached his other hand up to wipe away a tear.

Brian moaned, then he shook his head – no, he couldn’t do it. The words didn’t come out.

“Yes, you can.”

Roger sounded so sweet and so convincing. Brian almost believed him. “I can’t,” he said. Brian hated coming undone, but Roger did it so well and so thoroughly. He could hear the whine in his voice, and knew that if he just asked Roger to stop, he would. This wasn’t about control, not really; this was about helping him go that little bit further. There was so much trust that even when his body told him “no”, he didn’t want him to stop. That was the horrible part; he wanted it on some deep level. Roger continued stroking, maddenly slow and maddenly consistent. 

“You can just tell me to stop and I will.”

That soft voice again, that reasonable tone that Roger reserved for the times he really needed it. “I know.” That love for him that Brian hoped he was reflecting back even as he groaned and sighed at the sensations. “Please don’t stop, Rog.” Another tear rolled down his cheek, perhaps out of desperation, or maybe a certain amount of intense frustration. Roger seemed to light up at those words, a smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to the end of the now erect shaft in his hand. Brian closed his eyes and gasped as Roger’s grasp tightened and his slow, steady rhythm quickened. It hurt, it was too much, sensory overload… He moaned, reaching a hand up to roughly wipe tears away. “Close, oh Rog, babe, please don’t stop.”

He didn’t stop. Instead, he started varying the speed and pressure, pressing kisses to Brian’s stomach and thighs. Brian felt that telltale sensation of pressure building, and could feel the edge approaching, the friction on his skin burning even as Roger’s tongue, warm and wet, swathed over the skin. He moaned, gripping the bedding he was sitting on to avoid ripping out Roger’s hair. “I’m going to – ” Brian said, and then he tipped over the edge, shooting come he didn’t realize he still had after already coming once.

He felt like he was floating, which he knew wasn’t possible by any known set of physics, but every nerve ending felt disconnected as endorphins climbed into every empty space in his brain. He was vaguely aware of Roger wiping his chest with his shirt, and then he was helping Brian lay back on the bed and curling up next to him after shedding his own jeans. Brian glanced over and smiled at Roger. Since it had happened before he finished the sentence, Brian didn’t know how Roger had avoided getting shot in the eye, but he seemed to have come away unscathed. 

“You’re not blind, good.”

Roger laughed, scritching a hand through part of Brian’s hair. “No more than usual. You’re okay, though? Not too sore?”

“I’m tired, but amazing, Rog. You’re amazing. That was amazing,” Brian said, his eyes closed and his breathing finally starting to return to normal.

“Well then, I’m glad your vocabulary wasn’t affected, Bri. Let’s have a nap,” Roger said then pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips. “Then we can switch places and I’ll have a good cry.”

If Brian hadn’t been so close to sleep, he would have rolled his eyes at Roger or said something; instead he wrapped an arm around his drummer, made a mental note to thank Freddie for the trousers, and let sleep take him.


End file.
